Hatty Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
by oliviaXD
Summary: What if Harry Potter wasnt Harry Potter? What if he was born as Hatty? How different would the story be? Hatty Potter had a happy life growing up as the Dursleys golden girl, her life is turned upside down when she finds out the truth about her parents and her magical connections. How will she cope with a life so different to the one she grew up with?
1. The Girl Who Lived

**This is the first chapter of the story, it is basically the same as the book with a few minor changes (his to her etc)I know this sort of thing has probably been done before but I havent read one so hopefully I wont be copying! Obviously this chapter is the same as the first normal chapter but trust me after this the similarities will end as you will see in the next chapter! New chapter tomorrow, please review!****  
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Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small daughter, but they had never even seen her. This girl was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swoop ing past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their daughter, Hatty"

Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a daughter called Hatty. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his niece was called Hatty. He'd never even seen the girl. It might have been Hayley. Or Hazel. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks...

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny looking people in town today..."

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley. "Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their daughter – she'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't she?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's her name again? Hayley, isn't it?"

"Harriet. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders "Yes, I quite agree."

"actually, im sure they signed the last christmas card as Hatty, even worse, common as muck."

With that Petunia stormed into the kitchen, any mention of her sister certainly brought out the worst in her. Mr Dursley put his head in his hands, it was probably nothing. He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on - he yawned and turned over - it couldn't affect them...

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all. A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here." Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently.

"You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors." She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day YouKnow-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.

"I know you haven 't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too - well - noble to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs." Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?" It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - dead. " Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. "Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's daughter, Harriet. But - he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Hatty Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone. Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's - it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little girl? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did the child survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know." Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Hatty to her aunt and uncle. They're the only family she has left now."

"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harriet Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for her," said Dumbledore firmly. "Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to her when she's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! She'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Hatty Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Hatty - every child in our world will know her name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any girl's head. Famous before she can walk and talk! Famous for something she won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off she'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the girl getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Hatty underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore. "I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?" A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got her out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. She fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol." Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby giel, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over her forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore? She's going to hate that when she's older"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Hatty in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I - could I say good-bye to her, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Hatty and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor pretty Hatty off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Hatty gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Hatty's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Hatty," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone. A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen.

Hatty Potter rolled over inside her blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside her and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by her cousin Dudley... she couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Hatty Potter – the girl who lived!"


	2. The Vanishing Glass

**Next chapter up! I hope you enjoy it, the clear differences in the story start here. Im not sure if its clear but basically because of having a girl the Dursleys are changed people, their son is less spoilt and they really do love Hatty. I hope you enjoy! Also I fixed some of the errors in the first chapter. Please review!**

It had been nearly ten years since Mrs Dursley had found little Hatty Potter on her doorstep, not much had changed on Privet Drive, in fact it would appear to any one that time had frozen on this street. The Dursley's house was as it had been those ten years ago the only difference was the photos decorating the two storey house. Family portraits were dotted around the house, the thin long necked Petunia Dursley, the large Vernon Dursley, the equally large Dudley Dursley and the clear runt of the family Hatty Potter. A smiling normal family, but all was not normal in the Dursley household.

"Harriet Lily Potter!" Aunt Petunia shouted up the stairs, "get out of bed and get downstairs to celebrate your brothers birthday!" Petunia stormed back into the kitchen and continued preparing the bacon for her sons birthday. Hatty Potter pulled herself out of bed and walked up to her mirror, she pulled her long black hair into a bobble then put on a light blue dress.

"Stupid Dudley," she muttered to herself, "I just want to sleep." Once ready Hatty ran down the corridor and jumped into her brothers room.

"Morning Hatty," Dudley said as he pulled on his socks, "what do you want scarface? I want to open my presents."

"No need to be rude," replied Hatty, "cant I wish my big brother from another mother Happy Birthday?"

Dudley turned to her and smiled, "thanks kid, now come on let me open my presents. I'm expecting good things!" The two children walked down the stairs together and into the kitchen where they were greeted with bacon sandwiches and a small pile of presents. Dudley sat down and immediately started opening his gifts while Hatty started on the bacon.

"Happy birthday Dudders!" Petunia said as Dudley opened a new game for his and Hatty's playstation.

"Awesome!" He cried, "thanks Mum and Dad, Hatty have you seen this?" Vernon grunted his reply and Hatty pulled the game out of Dudley's hand to inspect it.

Petunia smiled at the two children, she loved to see them getting along. She would never tell Vernon but Mrs Dursley had always wanted a girl but Dudley was a miracle and she was unable to have any more children after his birth. When Hatty was left on their doorstep all those years ago Vernon had made a fuss and refused to look after her but Petunia convinced him. After a year of caring for the little girl both adults treated her as their own and though he would not say Vernon, like Petunia could not imagine life without Hatty. Even better for Vernon, there was no sign of any of that hocus pocus Dumbleface had written about in his letter to them, she wasn't a freak like her parents, she could be their little girl forever.

When Dudley had finished opening his presents and both children had eaten their breakfasts Hatty started pestering them about their day trip.

"Can we go now?" She begged, "I want to see the snakes!"

"Eww!" Dudley cried, "why cant you be a normal girl? Snakes are gross! And you know we cant go yet, Piers isn't here." Piers Polkiss was Dudley's best friend, he was a scrawny boy with a mean temperament and Hatty often worried that he would lead her brother astray but he was Dudley's friend so Hatty tried to get along with him.

Just before Hatty could reply the doorbell rang and the Dursley's sprung into action, Petunia put the packed lunches into her cooler bag while Vernon slowly folded up his news paper and finished his coffee. Dudley had run to the door and was greeting his friend as Hatty made sure her scar was hidden underneath her fringe, Piers loved to make fun of her lightening bolt. Although she was often teased about it Hatty loved her scar, it made her stand out and although she did not like the story it came with (her parents car crash and death) it still came with a story which she could always bring out when meeting new people.

"Hey Hat-hair," Piers greeted Hatty as they both got into the Dursley's car,

"Piers." Hatty nodded, she really did not have much time for the boy.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursley's bought Dudley, Piers and Hatty large chocolate ice creams at the entrance. Hatty licked her icecream as they looked at the Gorillas, "hey Dudley," Hatty shouted to her brother, "I didn't know you had a twin!" Piers sniggered and even Aunt Petunia suppressed a laugh when she saw the baby Gorilla which did bare a striking resemblance to her overweight son.

After walking around the zoo for an hour and eating a large lunch in the café (which much to Hatty's delight included another icecream) it was finally time for Hatty's favourite part of the zoo, the reptiles. Inside the reptile house it was cool and dark with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers were not happy about being in the enclosure, they were both rather impatient and wanted to go home and try out Dudley's new video game. However Dudley did get excited when he found the biggest snake Hatty had ever seen, it was amazing!

"Make it move," she whispered to Dudley, who took that as an invitation to hit the glass as hard as he could.

"No you stupid git!" Hatty snapped, "you'll scare it, go away and let me look at it."

"Its boring anyway," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away. Hatty moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself – no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. Come on snakey she thought, just look at me, please! The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Hatty's.

It winked. Hatty stared. Then she looked quickly around to see if anyone was

watching. They weren't. She looked back at the snake and stuck her tongue out at it.

The snake replied with its tongue and then jerked its head toward Dudley, then raised

its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Hatty a look that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time.

"I'm sorry" Hatty murmured through the glass, though she wasn't sure the snake could hear her. "It must be really annoying, he's not always like that though."

The snake seemed to roll its eyes at Hatty in disbelief. "Where do you come from, anyway?" Hatty asked. The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Hatty

peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Hatty read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see - so you've never been to

Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head,

"i'm sorry," Hatty said sympathetically, "I really wish I could so something to help you." To Hatty's surprise just as that thought came into her head the glass separating her from the snake disappeared causing Piers who had been leaning against it to fall into the tank.

Hatty sat up and gasped; the great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering

out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past her, Hatty could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come... Thanksss, amigo."

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber, Dudley's fear of snakes was certainly not going to improve any time soon.

In the car on the way home Dudley, who was feeling much better, turned to Hatty,

"you were talking to that snake weren't you?" He asked, before Hatty could reply Petunia butted in,

"of course she wasn't Dudley!" She snapped, "don't be so ridiculous."

"Actually," muttered Hatty, "I was sort of talking to it, I thought about it being free and then the glass vanished!" Dudley stared at his sister in awe whilst Petunia and Vernon exchanged worried glances. They spent the rest of the car journey in silence.

Later that night as they laid in bed Petunia turned to her husband, a troubled look on her face.

"Vernon, what if..." Petunia couldn't bring herself to say it, she could not accept that her little girl was different like her sister. She would not let it happen.


	3. The Letters From No One

**Sorry for the long wait! I have been quite busy this week, thank you so much to those of you that are following this story! I hope you enjoy this chapter, please please review :)**

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor had led Hatty to question her life and look back at the unusual things that had happened to her in the past. She thought about the clothes Aunt Petunia had bought her that she didn't like and had miraculously shrunk the next day, the games console that she had broken when she got angry at losing which the next morning worked better than ever and strangest of them all once when she got her hair cut the hairdresser was distracted and cut one side three inches shorter than the other. It had to be cut much shorter than her liking but when Hatty woke up in the morning her hair was back to normal. Hatty did not tell her Aunt and Uncle about the first two incidents and managed to keep her hair hidden in a wooly hat for a month before her family noticed the growth and by then it was easy to pretend that it had just grown exceedingly quickly. But there was no way to get around this everyone saw the glass disappear and now everyone thought Hatty was a freak.

Aunt Petunia had done her best to avoid Hatty over the past few weeks, however this was hard to do with her incessant asking of questions. If it wasn't

"do you think I have super powers?" It was "was Doctor Doolittle real and could we be related?" Then one morning came the question Petunia had been dreading,

"Aunt Petunia?" Hatty said cautiously to her Aunt as she walked into the kitchen, "I know this is might be a hard question, but were my parents, you know, different?" Petunia froze at the mention of her sister, she did not often think of her sister and liked to pretend that Hatty was her daughter to stop thoughts of her sibling entering her mind. Of course it did not help that Hatty had her mothers eyes, sometimes looking at her step daughter brought memories she did not want to remember flooding back. She shook her head and blinked away the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes,

"I really dont know what you mean Hatty," Petunia snapped, "your mother was a pain, as any sister is and your father was a prankster but otherwise," she paused, considering the impact whatever she said next would have on the little girl, "otherwise, they were completely normal." Petunia could see the disappointment in Hattys eyes. "now go upstairs and try on your uniform, school is starting in a two months we need to be ready!"

Hatty slinked upstairs to her bedroom, she didn't know what answer she was hoping for but it definitely was not that her parents were completely normal. She wished she knew more about them but whenever Hatty mentioned her Mum and Dad Petunia seized up and Vernon just went purple, its not like she should complain. Hatty had a good life but sometimes she just wished that things were different and that she lived with her real parents.

The Next morning Hatty went downstairs just as the post came,

"I'll get it!" She shouted into the kitchen walking up to the pile of post. She looked through the letters as she walked into the kitchen. There was a postcard from Aunt Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and a letter for Hatty. She handed over the other two letters to Aunt Petunia and stared at the letter addressed to her. No one, ever, in her whole life, had written to her. She had friends at school but none that would send a letter and her family away from her Aunt, Uncle and Cousin did not particularly make her feel welcome. She didn't belong to the library, so she'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet

here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Miss. H. Potter

The Smallest Bedroom

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, Hatty saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. As Hatty examined her letter Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk. -."

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Hatty's got something!"

"Oh yeah," Hatty said not taking her eyes off her letter, "its weird, i've never seen this symbol before," she handed it to Uncle Vernon, "do you recognise it?" Vernon took the letter and shook it open with one hand and glanced at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped. Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!" They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Hatty and Dudley were still in the room.

"What is it?" Hatty said worriedly, "is it something serious?" When no one replied to her she tried to take it from Vernons grip. "Please let me see!"

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope. Hatty looked at Aunt Petunia who slowly nodded at her, she sighed and left the room, it was not worth a fight, they would show her later.

When she left the room her and Dudley put their ears against the door to hear what they were saying,

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address - how could they possibly know where she sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching - spying - might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want -"

Hatty could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the

kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything...

"But -"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took her in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

Petunia looked at her husband, "that was before we knew her, I love her like she is our own. So what if she is different?"

"DIFFERENT!?" Vernon exploded, "there's being different and then there's being that, besides she's not even really ours."

Hatty pulled away from the door and ran upstairs, she knew Uncle Vernon had never fully accepted her but she thought deep down he felt different. Whatever was in this lesson had turned him against her and might be turning Aunt Petunia away as well. Whatever was in this letter she didn't want to know.

For the next week the house was bombarded with letters. Letters which the family simply ignored. Life went on as normal in the Dursley house hold, they carried out their day to day life . They avoided talking about the letters that flooded through the door, the fireplace, the windows. They even appeared in Hatty's room but she just took them downstairs and threw them away. The Dursleys were the only family she knew and she did not want anything, especially a stupid letter to destroy that.

The morning before Hatty's birthday was the worst for letters, at least 1000 came to the house every way possible. Hatty knew they could not avoid the situation much more but they still did not acknowledge the existence of the letters. That night a furious storm hovered above Privet Drive and it raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Hatty couldn't sleep. She lay in bed and watched her birthday tick nearer wondering not what her gifts would be this year but about what this letter would contain. She had one under her pillow which she was still refusing to open, but it was there. There to open when she finally built up the courage. Before she knew it there was only one minute to go until she would turn eleven then thirty seconds... twenty ... ten...nine - maybe she'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him - three... two... one...

BOOM.

The whole house shook and Hatty ran to the top of the stairs, staring down at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.


	4. The Keeper of the Keys

**Hi guys so sorry for this being so late! I don't even know the last time I updated and I know I said I would do this regularly. Life just seemed to get in the way, but I promise it wont for much longer! Happy holidays everyone, hope you enjoy this chapter. Its still very similar to the original but after this chapter come the massive changes to the story we all know and love. Enjoy! Also please review!**

Hatty quickly jumped out of bed. Shaking she grabbed a thick book from her bed side table, hoping that it would somehow protect her from the intruder in her house. Down the corridor she could hear Uncle Vernon shouting and Dudley squealing.

"Who's there?" He yelled as he cautiously crept towards the staircase, "I warn you," he began making his way downstairs, Hatty ran behind him and Aunt Petunia stuck her long neck out of the door. "I'm armed!" Vernon screeched, waving his rifle at the door as if whoever was pounding on it could see through it with x-ray vision.

Vernon and Hatty reached the bottom of the stairs when suddenly SMASH, the front door came off its hinges and fell to the floor. Hatty was frozen to the spot, staring at the creature that had caused the damage. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. The giant squeezed his way into the house, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley, who had eventually made his way downstairs, sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his father, "An' here's Hatty!" said the giant.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad…"

"But she has her mothers eyes," finished Aunt Petunia, who had also found her way downstairs and was squeezing Hatty's shoulder. The giant man Petunia up and down and gave her a quick smile, he did not expect the woman to be so attached to the little girl.

Uncle Vernon interrupted this moment with a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway - Hatty," said the giant, turning his back on Uncle Vernon, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here - I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Hatty opened it with trembling fingers, not once taking her eyes off the large man and wishing that Aunt Petunia would let go of her shoulder. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Hatty written on it in green icing.

Aunt Petunia looked at the cake,

"I made one for her as well," she muttered, "Victoria Sponge is her favourite, why are you here?" She asked, "Why now?"

Hatty looked up at her Aunt, "do you know who this man is?" She said inquisitively, getting more and more confused.

The giant gave Petunia another confused look and then introduced himself.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." He held out an enormous hand and shook Hatty's whole arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the fireplace which hadn't been in action for as long as Hatty could remember and

he snorted. He bent down over it; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker,

"We do have a kitchen if you would prefer?" Hatty pointed out as Vernon glared at her for even considering speaking to the stranger.

The giant smiled.

"Don't worry Hatty," he said as he passed her the plate of sausages, "I prefer to cook like this, reminds me of home.

She took two sausages off the plate and then passed them to Dudley, although Vernon snatched them away quickly. Not wanting his son to eat this man's food.

Hatty swallowed the food in her mouth then looked at the man, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts - yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.

"Er - no," said Hatty, looking at her Aunt who had suddenly gone very pale. Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Hatty said quickly.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It' s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"

All what?" asked Hatty.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole room.

Petunia had let go of Hatty's shoulder and had her head in her hands as if she was coming to terms with something.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this girl -this girl! - knows nothin' abou' - about ANYTHING?"

Hatty thought this was going a bit far. She had been to school, after all, and her marks weren't bad.

"I know some things," she said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff." But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Hatty.

"But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My - my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Hatty with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice. "Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sit! I forbid you to tell the girl anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer her? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Hatty eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia broke her silence and gave a gasp of horror.

"I know," she said quietly, "we should have told her, we should." Hagrid looked at the trembling woman and his face softened, "but she's my little girl, I didn't want her to go away, or change like my sister did."

Hatty stared at her Aunty, she had looked after her all her life, been a mother to her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what was in this letter.

"Hagrid," she said, "is it really important that I know? The Dursleys are my family, I don't want to upset them."

Hagrid looked at the little girl dumbfounded, "you are a nice girl Hatty, but don't you want to follow in the footsteps of your Mum and Dad? You're a witch Hatty!"

"- a what?" gasped Hatty.

"A witch, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Hatty looked at Aunt Petunia who gave a small nod followed by a quiet sob.

Hatty stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to her. She pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme

Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Hatty's head like fireworks and she couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl - a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Hatty could

read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Hatty her letter. Taking her to buy his things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're Well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the garden. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Hatty realized her mouth was open and closed it quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"Se's not going," he said. But Aunt Petunia stood up to her husband,

"Yes Vernon, she is." Hatty had never heard her Aunt talk like this to Uncle Vernon before, it was shocking for her and clearly to Vernon.

"What?" He shouted, "and why exactly is that woman?" Petunia looked at her husband, venom coming from her eyes,

"Because I say so," She spat, then turned her attention to Hagrid, "do you mind if I have a word with my niece?" She asked, "I want to be the one to tell her everything."

Hagrid looked from Petunia to Hatty, "yeh o'course," he said, "me an yer husband can have a nice chat while you are gone." Vernon gulped as the two women left the room. This was going to be a long night.


	5. The Unexpected Explanation

**I think its only been a week since I updated, hope you are all enjoying the holiday season and are looking forward to this year! One of my resolutions is to update this story weekly so I hope you are all enjoying it. Please review, it lets me know what people think, and I will definitely write regularly if you do! I hope you enjoy anyway!**

Hatty followed her Aunt into the kitchen where she sat down at the table as Petunia prepared two cups of tea, spooning an excessive amount into her cup and passing Hatty the other she sat down and sighed.

"I knew this day was coming," Petunia said sipping her overly sweet tea, "I just didn't want to tell you, I was scared of losing you like I lost Lilly." Hatty gulped her tea then opened her mouth to ask a question but her Aunt stopped her,

"Please Hatty,"Petunia said pleadingly, "If you just let me explain everything, you can ask what you like afterwards." Hatty looked at her Aunt and nodded, although she could be stern at times Petunia had always cared for her and treated her as her own daughter, no matter what she had to say Hatty would let her talk.

"You really are so much like her," Petunia smiled, " so kind hearted, and your eyes, just like Lily's, I mean your mums. We were always very close when we were younger so I noticed when strange things started happening, if her toy broke it would somehow repair itself. She used to get upset if a flower died and the next day it would miraculously be alive again. I know you have notice something similar happening to you?"

Hatty thought about all of the odd things that had happened to her in her life, those little seemingly unexplainable acts which she had pushed to the back of her mind. Petunia took a deep breath and continued,

"Then one day when she was about nine she met a boy, he lived in the poor part of town and started telling Lily that she was special, special like him. I regret how I acted when she grew close to the boy, I started being cold and cruel towards her." Hatty cleared her throat,

"I know you said I could ask questions later," she said as Petunia frowned at her, "but was this boy my Dad?" Petunia snorted,

"Oh no dear," she said, "I cant remember his name, she stopped mentioning him when she was about fifteen, he was very greasy though. Nothing like James." Hatty smiled and nodded for Petunia to continue.

"Anyway," Petunia said, "when Lily turned eleven she received a letter just like yours, inviting her to Hogwarts, I was so jealous, I even wrote to the Headmaster asking if I could go too. He sent me a very nice reply but I was too angry. Our relationship was never the same, never had a chance to make up before she, she died." Hatty could tell that Petunia could not carry on anymore, the tears were flowing down her face and she began to sob.

"I-i-if I could g-go back and change it all I would," she wailed as Uncle Vernon stormed into the room quickly followed by Hagrid.

"GIRL." He shouted, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY WIFE." He began to rip his hair out, "I KNEW TAKING YOU IN WAS THE WRONG THING TO DO." Hagrid picked up the screaming man and carried him out of the room,

"Tha's enough from you now Dursley," He grunted, "yeh wife has brought up this girl like her own, you coulda done the same, when her parents weh murdered I expected the worse. But…"

Before he could finish Hatty interrupted him,

"What," she said quietly, "my parents were murdered? I thought they died in a car crash?" Hagrid turned to look at Petunia, realisation swept over his face, she hadn't finished telling Hatty what had really happened. He put down Uncle Vernon and walked back into the kitchen.

"I'm so sorry, Hatty," He said apologetically, "I did'n realise 'tunia hadn't told yeh yet," he looked at Petunia who was still weeping in the corner, "I'll tell yeh. In the wizarding world yeh famous, yeh parents were great Wizards but they were killed by a Dark Wizard. But you survived. Yeh the only one to live when he wanted someone dead." Hatty was getting more and more confused, this was not how she expected her birthday to be,

"But how did I survive?" She asked, "and why my parents?" hagrid took a seat in the kitchen and it groaned underneath his weight,

"Well, I'll tell yeh as much as I can, but some of it is a mystery, even to this day. "It begins, I suppose, with - with a person called - but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows -"

"Who? "

"Well - I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Hatty, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Hatty suggested.

"Nah -can't spell it. All right - Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this - this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Hatty. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him - an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' - an' -"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad - knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find - anyway..."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then - an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing - he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of

it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches yeh - took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even - but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Hatty. No one ever lived after

he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age - the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts - an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

Hatty put her head in her hands, this was so much to take in. Her Mum and Dad had been killed, this mark on her head wasn't from a car crash that took their lives. Someone had tried to kill her. Then something very painful was going on in her mind. As Hagrid's story finished she remembered a flash of green light and a cold, evil laugh. She shook her head and looked at Aunt Petunia who was still at in the corner but had stopped crying now.

"Im so sorry," She said to Hatty, then she turned her attention to Hagrid, "I was just trying to protect her. Please understand." Hagrid walked over to the dishevelled woman and pulled her into a hug.

"I weh so worried about this little girl," he said as he released her, "but yev done a great job, even with this lug o' a 'usband with you." Vernon grunted in the corner. "She's going to be a great Witch, I know Lily is proud of you, and would want you to let her go." Petunia held her hand out to Hatty who was still trying to take everything in, she wasn't sure whether to forgive her Aunt or not. But she thought about everything she had been through in her life and went over to take her hand.

"Im going to be a great Witch," Hatty said as she took her hand, "you and my mum will be proud."

Aunt Petunia held back another sob and looked at Hagrid,

"I guess your going to have to take her shopping then?" She smiled. Hagrid nodded,

"Ay of course Petunia, Diagon Alley it is!" Hatty smiled excitedly, this was turning out to be a great birthday.

"Bloody nonsense," Vernon muttered leaving the room, "crack pots the lot of you."


End file.
